


I know who I want to take me home

by an_ardent_rain



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Gen, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_ardent_rain/pseuds/an_ardent_rain
Summary: After Strike asks for help on a case, Robin meets him at a bar to compare notes. Post- COE.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weasleytook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasleytook/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy the story! I loved writing it. I'm sorry it's so short, but this is about the third iteration lol. I feel like I got a decent balance of tension from reconnecting and tension from possible (or I think you could say definite in this story's case) attraction. I absolutely agree with what you said in your letter, I went from almost zero to ship in the span of Career of Evil. And the nonexistent burn is sooo goooood. I amped things up a little here compared to where they'd probably be in canon, but I hope it's enjoyable all the same! I tried to include an element of case fic since I didn't set them on an actual case, and though I didn't write it, the break with Matthew was kind of indicative of Robin coming more into her own. I think that came through here - hope so at least. Thanks for a great prompt, please enjoy!

Robin wiped her mouth, hand trembling with anger. The phone vibrated on the bar, moving towards the edge with each dissonant buzz.

 

She didn’t need to look at the screen to know who was calling.

 

She straightened up on the stool and primly smoothed her skirt over the tops of her thighs. She pressed her knees together and curled her toes in her shoes where they rested on the bar connecting the barstool’s legs. She was calm, completely at ease, she told herself, just out for a pint after work. If she didn’t want to answer her phone, she damn well didn’t have to. Suddenly she felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise, and she sensed someone close behind her. She stiffened but didn’t turn to look. A man coughed, and then took a seat on the stool next to her.

 

Robin let out a slow breath and reflexively grabbed her phone. It had stopped ringing - finally, she thought, and maybe he’ll get the message - and she slid it into the opening of her bag, careful to keep from glancing at the screen. There was a time when she’d be trying to hide Strike’s call from Matthew, the irony doesn’t escape her that she's trying to hide Matthew’s call from Strike. 

 

She didn’t glance his way, fidgeting slightly in her seat as she stared resolutely forward. 

 

He cleared his throat. “Robin.”

 

She turned her head and immediately caught his eye. He didn’t look sheepish or embarrassed or ashamed or anything like she’d thought he would from his voice. Instead he looked at her with dark, deep set eyes, his mouth in a flat line cut across the stubbly plane of his jaw. There was contrition, though, she was sure about that. 

 

They hadn’t seen each other since the day he’d come crashing into her wedding and it was a bigger punch to the gut than she’d expected. They’d talked, and they’d been talking - mostly through text message - since then, though they’d been formal and stiff and too-careful. They’d had to relearn each other after he’d so firmly snapped their bond, but they were relearning each other on equal footing. 

 

He’d asked - while he was a bit drunk, she’d thought at the time - for her help on a case. There’d been no job offer, no acknowledgement of her former place beside him. He’d only asked, if she was free, if she had some free time, if she didn’t think she’d mind, if she would help him out. As a favor, he’d said. Because he was busy and he knew she’d have no problem taking care of it on her own.

 

It had been a particularly unsubtle but of fishing, but she couldn’t help but be a little flattered that he’d taken the time to do it at all. She’d agreed, keeping any reservations to herself, and once she’d found the girl she’d been meant to find, she arranged to meet him at the pub.

 

She smiled. “You’re here,” she said. Her eyes stop down to her drink. “Good to see you.”

 

“You, too.” The bartender came up and asked if he wanted a drink. Strike asked for a beer and then turned to Robin. “You need anything?” He asked. “ My treat.”

 

She grinned at him - not often that he could treat - but shook her head. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment until the man at the bar brought him his drink, and Strike gave a brief wave of thanks before taking a deep pull. It left his upper lip wet, and Robin watched with feigned disinterest as he rolled his lips in, wiped the droplets away with the tip of his tongue. He glanced back towards her and she shifted in her seat.

 

“So thanks for meeting me here,” she said, pulling a folder out of her purse and keeping her eyes off him. She set it on the bar and opened it, then slid it towards him. He grabbed it and looked down at the photograph in front of him. “As you can see,” Robin continued, “I found the girl. Calling herself Violet now - her middle name - and living in Oxford with her girlfriend. And you were right, she ran because of the step-dad. Worried her mum would pick him over her, especially when she found out she’s a lesbian.”

 

“How much did you talk to her? She seem open to reconciliation?”

 

Robin watched as he studied the file she’d given him, with all the notes she’d made and the few photos she’d taken. She put her elbow on the bar and let her chin rest in the cradle of her hand, fingers gently cupping her jaw. “Definitely,” she said, “ but it will have to come from the mum’s side, not hers. She gave me her new number, asked if I would pass it along. The picture, too, of her and her girlfriend, she wanted her to have it.”

 

Strike nodded and then closed the folder. He put his hand on top of it, fingers splayed out and said “Good work.”

 

“Thank you,” Robin said, trying not to let her cheeks color. “I’m glad I could help.”

 

His brows furrowed and he drank a little more of his beer. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, it’s good, what you did for them.” His hand shifted on his glass, and his fingers slid through the condensation. “And, er. What you did for me.”

 

She felt the tension seeping off him. “Like I said.” She kept her voice steady. “Glad I could help.”

 

His head turned and his mouth crooked up in a genuine smile. It took years off his face, brightened his eyes. She cleared her throat. “If you wanted,” he said. He ran a hand through the curly mass if his hair and the smile fell off his face. “It’s not like you couldn’t help again sometime. If you wanted.”

 

She’d known, of course, that this was coming. Despite the bitter anger she still felt the remnants of, she wanted it. She swallowed and steeled herself and said “Maybe. If I wanted. But what do you want?”

 

His eyes closed, weary, and he groaned. He stretched his forearms out on the bar in front of him and clasped his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For what I… what I said. Since you didn’t hear it the first time, you deserved to hear it now.”

 

She chewed her lip and stayed silent. When it was obvious he wasn’t going to continue she said “I think maybe I should hear that you missed me, too.”

 

“I missed you, Robin,” he said into his drink.

 

She decided she liked the way her name fit, snug, in the curve of his mouth.

 

“Let me come back,” she said, quickly, before she could think better if it if lose her nerve. “Let me come back and work with you, not for you.”

 

“You mean that?”

 

That caught her off guard. “Of course I mean it. I never… I mean… you know that it wasn’t my choice to leave.”

 

He rolled his eyes and huffed. “Hit me where it hurts, yeah?”

 

Robin grinned, fierce and not at all apologetic. 

 

“I already had the paperwork drawn up,” he muttered. “It’s at the office. Totally equal partnership.”

 

She can’t stop herself from beaming and she doesn’t try. “Yes,” she said, and it didn’t matter that she sounded too eager. I’ll be by tomorrow to sign.” He smiled and she smiled back at him, then turned on her stool and stuck out her hand. “Partners?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, taking her hand. “Partners.” It was her left hand she’d given and he paused, held it for a moment. He ran the rough pad of his thumb over the bare third finger, slow and deliberate. She shivered and hoped he didn't notice. “Ring’s gone," he said, voice so low she can barely hear him. His thumb keeps moving in slow lines from side to side. That permanent?” He asked. 

She blinked, but didn’t pull her hand away. “Yes,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. She couldn't remember a time it felt so heavy to hold his gaze. Something hot and thick formed a ball in her throat. “It is.”

They both had things to do before they were meeting up the next day, so after Strike finished his beer they both decided to leave. Robin gave him the folder to keep with all the information on Violet she'd collected.

"I'll call the client tomorrow," he said. "Let her know her daughter's safe and wants to see her."

"Without her husband," Robin said. "And I don't think Vioket will ever come home unless she leaves him."

Strike nodded. They stood there for a moment in awkward silence. The dim lights of the pub shone a dull golden-orange on his skin, his silhouette limned in fluorescent light. She wanted to say something, something with the appropriate gravity to frame the moment, but no words came. Then he coughed and gestured towards the door. "After you."

For one moment as they walked out, Robin thought she felt the weight of his hand pressed carefully on the small of her back.

"I'll call tomorrow," she said as they stepped out onto the dark street. "Just to make sure you're in before I stop by."

He nodded. "Right. Sounds good then."

Impulsively, she wrapped one arm around him and leaned up, pressed her lips to his cheek. She felt the heat of his body, the firmness of his chest and the soft curve of his belly. It was a bad idea, she realized as she pulled away. They needed boundaries, and as much as she cared about him, she didn't want to cross any of his lines, wanted to keep a professional distance as they got back into familiar patterns working together. Matthew had always had the absurd notion that there was something else between them, but they were just co-workers. Just friends.

He put a hand on her arm for a moment, cupped around her elbow. It was a firm, friendly touch and it made her feel warm. "Goodnight Robin," he said.

"Night Cormoran. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He let her go, then turned to leave. She smiled to herself, watching as he walked away

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm going to have to write more fic for these two, this only whet my now considerable appetite.


End file.
